Tioman Island, Malaysia Sept. 23 - Oct. 13, 2008



After a two-day period of recovery from our 18-hour flight, and from the adjustment to the 18-hour time difference between home and here, we were ready to get out of Singapore. We hopped a cross-border bus to Johor Bahru, at the southern tip of Malaysia, and from there caught a bus going up the east coast to the small town of Mersing. Mersing was, and still is, primarily a fishing village, but it has become a major tourist transit hub for those traveling to Tioman Island, and that's where we were headed.

Tioman Island, aka “Bali Hai,” from the movie South Pacific, was voted one of the 10 most beautiful islands in the world by Time Magazine a few years ago. It's known not only for its white sand beaches and lush tropical jungles, but for its coral reefs and exotic fishes – a diver's paradise. It attracts tourists from Singapore and Kuala Lumpur, as well as from all over Europe, Australia and the Americas. We got there by 'fast ferry,' a two hour trip on a seaworthy craft across a blessedly calm South China Sea, without nary so much as a pirate in sight. On our way there we passed by some of the most beautiful little tropical islands I have ever seen – the proverbial coconut palm fringed white sand beaches – with hardly a trace of development.

Tioman is the largest and most developed of the islands in this little archipelago. Around a dozen little kampungs (villages) are scattered around its edges, most of them along the western edge. After reading our guidebook, we decided to go to Air Batang, more commonly known as ABC. During our first week we rented a room in one of the larger resorts on the longest stretch of sandy beach (the rest of the beach being mostly rocky). The resort is sandwiched, like almost all of the others, between the beach and the dense jungle that covers most of the island. Between the beach and the resort, there's a cement sidewalk that runs the entire length of ABC, perhaps a kilometre in all. The sidewalk, and the edge of the beach, are overhung by tall coconut palms, mangroves, and other jungle trees that provide welcome shade at all times of the day. Most of the resorts here are surrounded by grassy lawns and well-tended gardens, with lots of palms, hibiscus hedges and sweetly scented frangipani.

Our room is one of four in a low building to one side of the large lawn. It came with air-con, a private bathroom and a hot water shower, was clean and comfortable – and gave us a nice opportunity to acclimatize slowly to the heat and humidity, which here runs at around 90%. But we were only able to stay at this place for one week as a large party of French ex-pats from Kuala Lumpur had reserved the entire resort (40 rooms) for several days for a friend's birthday.

Fortunately by the time we had to vacate our air-con digs we'd met Tony, the amiable owner of the 'South Pacific' Resort and restaurant. Tony is a strict Muslim, with the tell-tale discoloured calluses on his forehead that come from devout observation of the five daily prayer sessions, all kneeling with forehead pressed to the floor. He's a real character, always ready with a joke, but he definitely chooses who he wants at both his resort and his restaurant. In keeping with his religious beliefs, he serves no alcohol, but he does not object to his guests having a drink in the privacy of their rooms, or on their verandas. He also makes no judgment about non-Muslim women wearing sleeveless tops, or even bathing suits, even in his restaurant. But his wife, who does most of the cooking, wears a dress that covers her from her neck to her wrists and feet, and a head scarf that covers all but her face, on which one seldom sees even a glimmer of a smile (in contrast to Tony's almost constant toothy grin).

The first day we went to his restaurant for lunch Tony took our order quite cheerfully, but a few minutes later, when another group of tourists came in asking if he was open for lunch he said 'no, not open,' and sent them elsewhere. For whatever reasons, he had decided he wasn't interested in serving them. Perhaps his wife had refused to cook any more that day. It was, after all, still Ramadan. In any event, Tony happens to have the only two chalets in ABC which are situated on the beach side of the cement walkway. Both are 'rustic,' with only a fan and a 'cold' water shower (although no water is really that cold here). He had previously declined to rent it to another couple who, like us, were looking for somewhere to go when the French took over our resort, but he was quite happy to rent it to us. Indeed he even gave it to us at a reduced rate, because for whatever reasons he likes us.

Although it was also Ramadan when we were in Singapore, we saw little evidence of it, perhaps because the Indian festival of Deepavali was also in full swing. But here on Tioman, where the population is almost entirely Muslim, with very few Chinese, the impact of Ramadan has been much more evident. Several of the resorts and restaurants have been completely closed; others have had very restricted hours. At the end of Ramadan comes the three-day celebration known as Eid in the Arab world, but here called 'Hari Raya.' During this time, family members all head for 'home,' to celebrate with their kin. Here on Tioman this has occasioned a sizable influx of native Tiomanites who are now living in other parts of Malaysia, primarily Mersing and Kuala Lumpur.

On the first two days of Hari Raya, family members dress in their finest, and go to visit one another. On the first day, people from ABC go to the nearby village of Tekkek. On the second day, people from Tekkek come to ABC. And on the third day, which is Friday, the whole lot of them go to the central mosque, which is again in Tekkek. As almost no one here walks, it was quite a spectacle to see whole families dressed in lime green jelabas, or bright pink dresses and head scarves, perched atop motorbikes, or sitting gingerly on the side-rails of the boxy side-cars attached to many motorbikes, speeding along the cement pathway. One motorbike carried father, mother and three children, all sandwiched together, like colourful parrots glued to a noisily hurtling branch. I have noticed that even the youngest of children, when seated on a motorbike in front of their fathers, mothers, brothers or sisters, sit absolutely motionless, as if velcroed to the person behind them. They don't hold on to anything, and of course have no protection – I have yet to see a helmet here in Malaysia. Given that many of the motorbike drivers are themselves children – often no more than 10 years old, it's amazing how few accidents there seem to be.
During the days just before Hari Raya we saw families sitting on their porches weaving strips of palm fronds into little closed baskets. These are filled with rice and cooked in coconut milk. Some have ground lamb or beef in the centre. These, and other savory and sweet treats, are offered to all guests and visitors. There have also been fireworks almost every night for the past week or so. Most of these are lit by small children, pretty much unsupervised. A lot of them are just noise-makers, some making alarmingly loud bangs, but a few have been colourful. It's interesting to see how keen so many of people in the various countries we've traveled in are on fireworks that make a big bang, and how little precaution is taken in their use. I wonder how many children's fingers are burned or blown off... .

We were already staying at Toni's on the day of the festival here on Tioman, and he not only invited us to come and partake of the special foods, all of which had been prepared by his wife, but he came over to collect us and make sure we felt welcome. We had a special treat that looked like a nest of fried noodles, but was actually a thin pancake mix, dripped in squiggles into a hot wok, and then carefully folded so that the batter kept its noodly appearance even after it had been folded into the shape of a taco. This was served with a beef curry sauce. We also had the sweet sticky rice balls, served with a beef redang sauce, which was slightly sweet and tasted a little of anise. There were trays of little sweet and savory delicacies on every table, and large plastic jugs of cold tea, coffee and root-beer. Tony's wife, who is generally taciturn, seemed genuinely pleased that we liked the various dishes she had made, and brought out more for us to sample.

The day reminded us a lot of Christmas, with food everywhere, and lots of kids playing with their new toys, and one another, while the adults sat around chatting and laughing. On this day, in addition to presents, the children receive envelopes of money (a small amount – perhaps 1 ringgit, or 30 cents) at every home they visit. We watched as a group of young boys came and greet ed Tony by touching their foreheads to his outstretched hand, and then touching their hands to their hearts, wishing him 'Selamat Hari Raya.' He gave them each an envelope, and then they helped themselves to the various treats on offer. When they left, they said good-bye in the same fashion. It's interesting – and heartening – to see these traditional signs of respect still practiced, still such an integral part of the culture.

Here on Tioman, apart from Hari Raya, we spend our days, like most of the locals, lazily. We hang out in the hammocks strung between the coconut palms reading books, or sit under a fan at one of the little restaurants, sipping cool drinks and watching the goings on on the beach, the boats on the water. We walk the length of the cement sidewalk (there are no roads here at ABC, and blessedly, no cars) at least once a day, and usually twice, if for nothing more than to keep our circulation going. We 'swim,' really just lolling in the water, which is soupy warm and very salty. I suspect even a rock would float here. On some days, we emerge with black patches of oil on our feet and legs. We use sand to scrub them off, along with a layer or two of skin.

Sometimes we go snorkeling. There are both coral and man-made reefs, off most of the beaches. The water is usually clear, visibility good. I particularly like watching the neon-coloured angel fish and the bright yellow, orange, black and white clown fish as they swim among the corals, feeding and basking. None of the fish seem the least concerned about the blue whale hovering above them, white arms and legs akimbo, like a giant starfish. Many come near enough to touch, but of course shy away when I reach out my hand. On one occasion I saw three barracuda cruising below me, their toothy jaws agape. The littler fish scooted out of their way. Later I found myself swimming amidst a large school of small silver fish. They moved in unison, like one big organism. Apparently they have sensory strips that run along either side of their bodies. These sense the vibrations caused by even the most subtle movements of the fishes around them, enabling them to keep 'in tune' with the rest of the school. It's amazing to watch these miracles of nature, up close.

Even without making the effort to trek into the jungle, we've seen a fair amount of wildlife on Tioman. We've seen several troops of monkeys, often making their rounds of the various resorts, looking for tid-bits left by tourists. They use their nimble fingers to open plastic bags or, more alarmingly, bite holes in them and suck out whatever's inside. They are not particularly fearful of us, but they are also not as bold as the temple monkeys in India, which, having been fed bananas and peanuts by unthinking tourists, have no fear of people. They'll jump right up on them, snatching purses and packs, and run off with them to a safe distance, then open them and examine their contents, throwing away all that's inedible. The monkeys on Tioman keep a more respectful distance. There are many babies in the troops we've seen, some cavorting around on their own, others clinging to the undersides of their mother's bellies as they lope along. One particularly cheeky monkey sat atop a streetlight right above us, scratching himself desultorily as he regarded us haughtily from his high perch.

We've also seen several monitor lizards. They look like over-sized geckos – some are as long as six feet – and they walk about in a most ungainly manner, swinging their big webbed feet well out from their bodies, their heads and necks swaying from side to side with each step. So far we've only seen them either scratching in the leaves eating bugs, or lumbering along through the ditches. It's hard to imagine how fast these beasts can move when they're motivated. Unfortunately both lizards and monkeys are drawn to the piles of black bags filled with garbage that are left in great piles on the beach, rotting and stinking in the tropical heat. They tear the bags open, eating what's edible and spreading the rest around, including lots of disposable diapers and of course literally hundreds of the now everywhere ubiquitous plastic water bottles.

One of the locals told us about a baby python that was hanging out in a tree right beside one of the little cement bridges that cross the streams that come down from the jungle behind us. He was pretty well camoflaged, but we spied him in the crotch of a mangrove tree, watching the passers-by like an aerial troll. We see him there most days, but he's
eerily absent at night, making us wonder where he might be lurking... . Perhaps he's waiting for one of the many island cats to attempt a crossing, and then he'll make a quick wrap of it.

At night we see legions of bats, swooping and diving, and apparently doing a great job of catching mosquitoes, of which we have seen precious few. There are a couple of trees that they like to hang out and sleep in during the day, completely filling the branches with their little leathery bodies. Underneath the tree the walkway's black with their fruity droppings.

Although not 'wildlife' per se, it's impossible not to mention the cats here on Tioman. There are just too many of them. Very few are 'pets,' although they do choose which places they call 'home,' and are tolerated by those who live there to a greater or lesser extent. At our first lodgings, the cats hung about in the restaurant all day, leaping up on the tables as soon as diners left their seats, checking out every bowl, cup and plate to make sure there wasn't something edible left behind. No one made any attempt to dissuade the cats from jumping up or sitting on the tables. Tony, on the other hand, shoos cats away, with a swipe of his broom if necessary, and there are no cats on tables or underfoot in his restaurant.

No one feeds these cats, and they are almost all impossibly thin. While they don't appear diseased, many bear the wounds of their constant territorial battles. Almost all of them share another interesting and unusual characteristic: very crooked or bobbed tails. Some have virtually no tail at all. We noticed the same thing with the cats in Singapore. Apparently the Chinese believe that the cat is the 'perfect' animal, and the only one that goes to heaven. But it won't go to heaven if it's not perfect, and as they also believe that there are a limited number of spots in heaven, they mutilate the cats' tails in an attempt to ensure themselves a place. The Chinese belief – or at least the mutilation of cats' tails – appears to have spread to other creeds and cultures. Poor kitties!

Asians generally don't seem to have much regard for animals, and it's not unusual to see children – and adults – tormenting animals for fun. A few days ago we watched as children threw styrofoam floats into a shallow pond filled with catfish, which were splashing about frantically in their efforts to get away. The children's mothers sat smiling indulgently on a nearby garden swing, offering not a word of rebuke. A few days later we saw a woman throwing stones at a little monitor lizard that was resting in an out-of-the-way patch of weeds. Unable to restrain himself, Doug yelled 'hey!' at her, and she turned and walked away, likely more embarrassed by having attracted the attention of a foreigner than ashamed of her behavoiur towards the lizard.

Tioman is one of many islands, and groups of islands in Malaysia, that are 'protected' by marine park status. According to their glossy full colour brochure, “All fishing activities are prohibited within the marine park,” which extends for 2 nautical miles beyond low water mark around all of the islands. There are also prominent signs at intervals along the beach saying “no fishing.” Nevertheless, all of the little stores sell fishing lines and hooks, and we've seen tourists and locals alike fishing off the jetties, so despite the prominent signs saying 'no fishing,' it appears that this rule is not enforced. One day we watched as several locals with axes and machetes hacked clams and oysters from the rocks along the shoreline, under the watchful, but clearly disinterested gaze of the marine police. The marine police take a very different approach to Thai fishboats caught fishing within park boundaries. The fishermen are apprehended, and their boats are scuttled, practically on the spot, creating new reefs for recreational divers. Unfortunately, many divers report that the boats are sunk without proper preparation, still containing batteries and quite likely fuel and oil.

And although Tioman is undeniably beautiful, developments at various points around the edges of the island have degraded the island's environment in the most awful way. Most of the 'resorts' are untidy collections of ticky-tacky shacks, euphamisticly referred to as 'chalets.' There are piles of building materials, abandoned boats and stacks of very large black plastic pipes (presumably for a new, but never started, water line) everywhere. Garbage, mostly plastic containers, flip-flops and bits of styrofoam, litters many of the beaches. This despite the numerous signs exhorting locals and tourists alike not to litter, and to “keep Tioman clean,” many of which are themselves tossed on the piles of junk. Just near the main jetty at ABC, and right beside the walking path, there's a small shack with a tin roof where garbage is collected and, at intervals, taken by boat to the main village, Tekkek, where apparently it's incinerated. The stench emanating from the shack, in the heat, is appalling. We try not to breathe as we pass by. As in many of the poorer countries we've traveled in, the locals make a habit of burning garbage, almost daily. This includes plastic bags and bottles, disposable diapers, and food. The smoke, in addition to being acrid and disagreeable, is toxic. We wonder if they know, or care, about this.
Concern for the environment is practically unknown in the vast majority of the world – and particularly in Asia and India, where environmental regulations are virtually non-existent, and where billions of people live in the oceans of garbage they create, and discard, so casually, breathing air polluted by factories and families alike, and drinking water polluted by chemicals and human waste. Given the overwhelming, and understandable, priority for improving the economic status of these countries and their people, it will likely be a very long time before environmental considerations come to the fore.

Similarly, and perhaps concomitantly, there appears to be little interest in personal health and fitness, or any form of activity. Many Asians smoke, much to the delight of the big tobacco companies who, as they are losing their markets in the west, have no compunction about exploiting their markets in Asia, Africa and Latin America. They love refined foods like white rice and white bread, and eat an astonishing amount of sugar and sweets. They are also addicted to packaged foods like cookies, sugar-coated nuts, and chips. Exercise is a foreign concept. Even on little Tioman Island we have seen few locals walking or riding bicycles. They all go about, even short distances, by motorbike. Very few can swim. They spend much of their days in their houses or in hammocks, snoozing. Several of the resorts employ migrant workers from Indonesia as cleaners, cooks, waiters and nannies. Manual labour is something best avoided. All that notwithstanding, Asians are still nowhere near as fat as Americans (or Canadians) and we've seen very little obesity. One can't help but wonder how long that will last... .

On days when we're feeling particularly energetic (or need an infusion of cash), we walk up the stairs that lead over the rocky headland from ABC to the largest village on the island, Tekkek. Tekkek not only has the only bank and ATM on the island, but it also has a surprisingly busy, and very small, airstrip. Almost all of the shops and restaurants in Tekkek have been closed when we've been there, whether for Ramadan or as a result of declining numbers of tourists, we don't know. There is a large new resort just beyond Tekkek which seems to draw most of the tourists who come in by air, but as it is a self-contained place, with its own restaurants, shops and a swimming pool, few of its guests bother to come into town. So Tekkek itself is pretty desolate, and woefully derelict and dirty. At this point, few tourists would want to go there, except to visit the ATM.

On the way from ABC to Tekkek is the Marine Park Centre where apparently some species rehabilitation is underway, although when we visited, we saw none of that. Public access is restricted to one building, which contains no living specimens, but rather a collection of old but colourful posters identifying the various corals, fishes, nudibranchs, turtles and shelled creatures that inhabit the surrounding waters. There are also several posters decrying the various ways in which man and his activities are destroying their habitat , driving many into near extinction. Development on the beaches is cited as one of the most serious threats. But right in front of the Centre, where once was a long expanse of pristine sandy beach, a massive construction project is underway. They are building a brick and cement seawall, road and walk-way that looks like it will extend almost the entire length of the beach.

We've been given two reasons for the beachfront development. One is 'erosion control,' however it seems more than just a little over-sized for that purpose. The other, more likely explanation, is that it's the first stage of a (very) big new resort complex. Judging from the distinct lack of construction activity, and the large expanses of bull-dozed sand which weeds and grasses have already re-colonized, it would appear that there's little interest in completing the project. Perhaps the would-be developer's run out of money; perhaps it's the recent decline in tourism. Whatever the reason, the project languishes, an eyesore and an environmental liability, at the heart of the touted 'Marine Park.'

Out front of the Marine Park Centre is a jetty and two swimming floats. We were told snorkeling was good here, and thought we'd give it a go. When we arrived there were perhaps 20 Malaysian tourists, all wearing bright orange life-jackets, snorkeling about amid schools of mixed fishes in the bright turquoise waters. Within a half-hour or so, several more boats bearing local tourists arrived, perhaps 150 or so in all. They were feeding the fish pieces of white bread, and shrieking with delight as the fish jumped and swished among them, enjoying their less-than-healthy, but free, feeding frenzy. We noticed one fish had a large chunk of skin missing on one side – perhaps it was mistaken for a piece of bread by a bigger fish? Despite the exhortation in the glossy folder not to 'disturb or feed the wildlife,' (presumably including fish, but who knows), the two conservation officers from the Centre watched impassively as the tourists fed the white bread to the fish.

On the other hand, the Marine Park rules prohibiting water-skiing, racing boats and jet skis are observed, so the Tioman is blessedly free of the noise that plagues most tourist beaches throughout the world. Indeed, as there are also no vehicles here in ABC, it's wonderfully quiet. The locals don't even make a habit, as they do in so many places, of playing awful music at full volume anywhere and everywhere. So what we hear, most of the time, is the music of the waves, the wind in the palms, and the various birds that seem to spend their days either scolding at, or singing to, one another. Tioman is also entirely free of the usual touts and craft sellers that generally haunt touristy places. Indeed no one here seems interested in selling anything. Even in the tourist shops, you have to ask for what you want. And there are no kids following us around begging for candies or money. It is a refreshingly relaxed place, with little to do but enjoy it, one day at a time. So it's easy for the days to turn into weeks, and the weeks into months. Why look for anything better?